Day 1
Log Title: Day 1 Characters: Spike, Sparkplug, Roland, Buster, Judy Location: Somewhere off the Atlantic shores Date: May 1984 TP: Flashback Summary: The seeds of Spike and Sparkplug's future are firmly planted as they two find themselves on an oil rig that will alter their future forever a mere six weeks from now. Though Spike quickly went along with his father's request to have him work alongside him for the entire summer, shades of teenage rebellion surface as an isolated Spike tries to rebel from his first-day duties. The key word is "tries". ' '4:38 a.m. ' First Day. The AC is weak. Sparkplug is working on the other side of the oil rig and Spike's...doing janitorial duty. He's not liking how things are going. Near his bed are a pair of union-sanctioned yellow boots. But Spike tiredly laces up his tennis shoes. Spike, bleary-eyed looks at the clock. 4:38 a.m. When Sparkplug has his back turned to Spike, he shakes his head slightly. Spike looks at his pillow, still damp with sweat from the practically AC-less night. Goddamnit, is THIS what work is? But to Sparkplug...this may be so normal to his usual work routine that he barely notices. Spike mumbles at his dad "Seeyah later on..." as he plods out, sans the lame corporate-mandated uniforms :D GAME: Sparkplug PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Average difficulty. GAME: Sparkplug PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Average difficulty. Sparkplug calls out to his son, "Spike..." Spike turns around and wipes the sleep from his eyes, "Yeah?" Sparkplug says, "You forgot your boots. You doing OK?" Spike nods. GAME: Spike FAILS an INTELLIGENCE roll of Immense difficulty. Sparkplug checks his reflection in the metal-plate glassless mirror. Is his hairline receding? Ah, well. Doesn't matter now. He turns back to his son. "I...uh...I worked something out with the supervisor. Since I'm not doin' 'work work' around here...he said I don't have to wear those," Spike mumbles. Working something out = I'll talk to him this morning when I get there. Sparkplug frowns. "You sure? You look like you've been work-working." Spike frowns "They got me mopping floors and cleaning toilets. You don't need boots for that..." Spike zips up his outfit and plods out. Today was the day Ghostbusters was released too! Sparkplug frowns. "I guess. But if you go out on deck, put on the boots. I don't want a rogue wave comin' up and washing you over." Sparkplug follows his son out. "Hold up a moment." Spike puts his hands to his side. Sparkplug walks up and puts his hand on his son's shoulder. Sparkplug says, "Spike, I know this is tough. I know this isn't what you'd had in mind for the summer." Sparkplug looks around, making sure they are alone. Spike nods. "I know..." Spike looks at his dad slowly goes to untie his shoes. Sparkplug says, "I just want to let you know that I appreciate it." "Look, I'll get better. It's just...an adjustment. I didn't even know there was a 4 a.m. until today" Spike says half-jokingly. Sparkplug chuckles, smiling at his son's attempt at humor, which Sparkplug sees as a good sign. Sparkplug says, "And look -- you may not realize it now, but this is really good experience for the future. I started out at the bottom, too. You only go up from here." Sparkplug says, "And... every cent you earn here goes into your college fund." Spike grins. "Yes, sir. You're looking at the first Witwicky with a masters degree! (not knowing about Archibald). '10:37 a.m. ' Despite a morning bout of flaring arthritis in his right knee, Frank had no trouble briskly walking down to Roland’s office. Roland briefly looked up from a series of dog-eared spreadsheets and cupped his knee with his hands. “Heyah Frank, what seems to be the problem?” “It’s that Spike kid. I asked him to clean the bathrooms, and he gave me a smartass response at how he’d be better at doing repairs.” Roland nods slowly, as if he already predicted this situation would happen. He slowly openes his mouth to respond before Frank continued. “I told him I didn’t give a shit what you’re good at. We hired you to clean!” Frank pulls out a rag from his overalls and began wiping some grease from his hand. “He muttered something and went back to work. I checked in on him 30 minutes later and he was reading a damned comic book!” Roland absorbs Frank’s rant and nods. “Funny, it’s like we hired a 16-year old…” “That’s no excuse! I’ve worked as a janitor here for 18 years!..” Roland raised a halting hand. “I know…I am not excusing his behavior. I’m just saying… most likely he expected to spend the summer chasing girls and going to baseball games, and lo and behold, he’s sent to an oil rig with no one his age.” Frank frowned. “No excuse, you’re right," Roland agreed. "But it’s always good to get into the head of those squeaky wheels that need greasing.” He smirks and says “Send him in. I haven’t had one of my ‘talks’ since I fired that college snob last year. Roland leaned back in his chair and eeked out a forced English accent. “Oh, how I hate breaking new workers. Send the Witwicky boy in!” Frank grinned. “Bullshit, boss. Chewing out other coworkers is like a goddamn perk in your job description!” Roland grinned and pointed to a chair opposite his desk. “Send him to the gallows…” A few minutes later, Spike knocks on Roland’s door. He gulps, feeling warmer than he did a few minutes ago. “You…wanted to see me, sir?” Roland nods and gestures Spike into his office. “Heyah, son. How you liking the new job?!” Spike forces a tired, polite smile. “It’s all right…” Roland gives a single nod. “Your…uh…supervisor tends to have a different opinion.” Spike shakes his head. “No, sir! I like the work! I just…” He steels his spine and stammers. “I just, think I’d be better help doing like…repairs and stuff.” Roland gives a measured smirk. “So…Frank’s work – you think you’re capable of more?” Spike paused. His eyes search the room for a non-existing answer that wouldn’t demean Frank. He finally nods. Roland finally rose from his desk. “See…I already HAVE repair folks…some who have been doing repairs well before you were born.” He walks past Spike and shuts the door, sending a rush of cold down Spike’s back. “What I DON’T have is someone who can clean.” Roland’s smile disappears instantly. “See, right now, what’s standing right in front of me is a flagrant OSHA violation! Do you know how much I could be fined bringing a 14-year-old aboard an oil rig?” Spike’s mouth gapes slightly. “No…” he said dumbly. “A shitton!” Roland spat. Roland frowns, raising his voice, but inflecting so his voice doesn't break. “If I’m going to get fined, it better be because we have a goddamn good janitor on this rig, not because we’re carrying some goddamn pretty boy who thinks he’s too goddamn good to mop floors!” Outside Roland’s office, two workers flinch as Roland’s voice carried outside the closed doors. The workers giggle and shake their heads as they head to the generators. Spike stands in terror. Too afraid to talk, he nodded, feeling perspiration gather from the back of his neck. Roland moves one step closer to Spike. “You’re bringing attention onto yourself. And if one person on this rig turns your ass in, I’ll make sure not only your ass leaves this rig, but your father as well!” Spike stutters. “No…I..I didn’t!” Roland takes one step closer. “You know how much your dad cares about you and your brother?! I haven’t seen a more dedicated father on this rig. And what the fuck are you doing to return the favor, by shitting on him!” A damp, swampy dread fills the back of Spike's neck. “No, I…!” his voice started to break. Roland frowns. “You think your dad WANTED to bring you out here?! You think he enjoys seeing his son at work 10-hours a day and not enjoying his summer vacation!” “No!” Roland edges closer to Spike as his nose is mere inches from the top of Spike’s head. “See, I run a tight ship here. And I don’t have time to be a wet nurse to a spoiled high schooler!” Spike’s eyes began to well. "I'm not spoiled! I swear..." Roland looks at Spike and frowns, pointing to the door. “You know what, I don’t believe you! Not for a second! Get the fuck out of here! I can’t even look at you right now!” Spike stands for a few seconds. “OUT!” Roland screamed, making some more people walking outside his office flinch. Spike’s shoulders slump and he turns to open the door. Resting his hand on the doorknob, Spike turns around, tears streaming down his face. “Please…sir…give me another chance! I’m so sorry! I just…” Roland folds his arms and looks at Spike skeptically. “I don’t know…honestly. I…just don’t think you’re cut out for this. Trust me, I have a sense about this. I know the moment a person steps on this rig that they’re not up to the task. Like you, they’re these linguini-spined college know-it-alls who think they’re going to make a fast buck. Only you seem to be ahead of the game. Now, instead of linguini-spined college kids, I got a junior high baby to look after! - not even in high school yet!” Spike shook his head, tears flowing freely. “Please sir! My dad …I can’t…I can’t let him down!” Roland pauses and steps toward Spike. “I want to believe you…I really do.” He frowns, closing in. “So, I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m putting you on probation. A five-hour probation. From this moment on…as long as you’re on this rig, your ass belongs to Frank. If he tells you to clean toilets, they better be spotless! If he tells you to jump in the ocean, you best dive! From this point on, he is GOD to you. God it?!” Spike nods rapidly, wiping some tears from his eyes. Roland moves past Spike to open the door. “I’m taking a risk with you, son. Do NOT make a fool out of me.” He frowns and says “..or your dad.” Spike nods and leaves. The dimly lit corridors to Roland’s office give a reassuring shelter as Spike’s able to wipe a fresh flow of tears from his face. Roland, hearing Spike leave gives a warm smile to himself and goes back to his spreadsheets. He takes a sip of coffee. “Wow…haven’t scared someone that hard since that Yale grad…” A few hours later… Spike’s scrubbing one of the faucets with a toothbrush. His shoulders are on fire from the day’s work. Roland comes in, sending Spike back a few steps as if he touched a live wire. Roland, not looking at Spike, merely looks around the bathroom. He pauses and nods. “Not too bad…’ Spike nods, looking absolutely wiped out from his first full-time day of work. He’s worked this hard before. But never on the clock. Never outside his father’s protective halo. He gives Roland an attentive look, but also looks like he’s ready to fall asleep on the spot. Roland shrugs. “Think that’ll be all today. Good news though! Frank thinks you just might be useful tomorrow.” Spike nods and says meekly “Thanks…” Roland shrugs. “Don’t thank me, thank Frank. Now clean yourself up.” Spike nods and collects his cleaning gear and leaves. Roland pauses and yells down the hallway. “Heyah! Next month…one of our coworkers is going on paternity leave. I…may…MAY be in need of a replacement. Ever operate a bailer before?” Spike shakes his head. Not even hearing the term. But liking the term ‘operate’. Roland shrugs “Well… as I said, we’ll see. Until then… your best bet is to get on Frank’s good side.” Spike nods and weakly smiles “Yes, sir.” He then walks back to his cabin, planning on doing nothing more or less than passing out face-first on his cot. Day 1 down…84 more to go. '6:47 p.m. Sparkplug heard Spike burnt his shoulder leaning against a steam pipe (not bad) and had a blister break. Nothing bad, but enough to merit Sparkplug to visit the infirmary for some supplies where he bumps into Roland and gets the first day on the job report from Spike. Roland is in the infirmary as well, getting some ibuprofin. He looks over at Sparkplug. "Ah! Sparkplug, great you could make it to this assignment!" It's after the first workday. Spike had his ass chewn out by Roland. Spike got his shit together, but had a strand of first-workday injuries (e.g. using muscles you don't know you had when you do a job like that). Roland meets Sparkplug to give him a first-day report on Spike." Spike is in his sleeping quarters, which he shares with his father as his father's away right now. He's face-down in bed, reading 'Slaughterhouse Five' - his shoes are off, showing the blisters from the day in addition to his still- oozing blistered hand (he'll be a seasoned vet by the time the 'Cons attack in a few weeks). He lets out a faint groan. "Jeeeeeezus...six more weeks of this?! And I gotta be up in...what...8 hours to do this AGAIN?!" he writes in his journal. Sparkplug smiles at Roland. "Glad I could make it as well!" For the second time in a short time, he looks around to make sure he's alone with the person with whom he's talking. A few coworkers of Sparkplug joked about his son getting his introduction to "real" work, and later he heard a story about a burn and a blister, which may need some gauze and some ointment. Roland takes a few ibuprofins and slaps Sparkplug on the arm. He clears his throat. "Oh...your son..." Sparkplug grins nervously. "How's he workin' out? I really appreciate you giving him a chance." Even without the age thing, it's still nice for Roland to give a spot to someone so inexperienced for a job that pays well enough that there's a line of applicants. Roland has never been one for compliments. He says briefly "He wasn't terrible on his first day..." meaning probably one of the higher compliments Roland could pay a coworker. Roalnd grins. "Now to keep OSHA off our asses! Keep up the good work, Sparkplug!" Sparkplug's crinkled eyes widen as what he recognizes as a compliment. Sparkplug nods. "I'll keep on his ass to follow every rule in the book -- and make sure to lead by example!" Spike lies in bed, totally stewing from the day. He writes "Shit...and dad does this every day. And doesn't even complain! Guess it's time for me to do the same. More tomorrow. Hope you're doing well, mom. - S" Roland's already down the hallway, raising a hand from Sparkplug's declaration and continuing into his office. Spike continues reading 'Slaughterhouse Five' with his good hand. Spike takes a wad of toilet paper and wraps it around his hand as more clear fluid seeps out. Who knew clutching a broom and mop for seven hours could wreck havoc on a hand?! Sparkplug heads back to the small room he shares with his son, after grabbing something from the mess for the two of them. Spike's shoes are off and he seems to be planted on the bed. He lets out another moan before his dad arrives. If anything, Spike's reaction may bring back memories of Sparkplug's first day at boot camp when he fled his own family's grasp. Sparkplug fixes a reassuring smile on his face as he enters the small room. "Hey, kiddo! I brought you some grub!" he calls out. Spike looks over at Sparkplug and forces a weak grin. "Heyah dad...how was work?" Sparkplug says, "Work was good. It's good to be working again." Spike nods. "I bet." He wraps his hand and manages to sit up. Sparkplug's cot is roughly two strides away from his. And their cabin is roughly as long as the length of three cots. Sparkplug says, "How are you doin', kiddo? Heard good things from my boss." Spike 's eyes open in alertness. How could it be after... "Even after he grilled my ass?!" Sparkplug grins, looking completely unsurprised. "Got a little of the ol' Roland charm, huh?" Spike nods. He looks up and gulps. "Uh...dad...I'm sorry I've been kind of a dick the past few days. I never knew you worked so hard... I mean...I DID, but...I didn't KNOW until, like today." Sparkplug's smile remains, and he doesn't seem upset at all. He pulls his cot closer to Spike, and sits down carefully with the tray of food. "You're...not mad I got chewed out today?"" Sparkplug chuckles. "No, no. In fact, I'd be more worried if you DIDN'T get chewed out on your first day." Spike looks on wearily at the tray of...food. It's edible, yes. That's about all that can be said. GAME: Spike PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Immense difficulty. Sparkplug says, "Roland runs a tight ship." Spike looks at Sparkplug and shakes his head. "So...why would you be worried if I DIDN'T get chewed out?" "I thought you weren't supposed to get chewed out at work." Sparkplug says, "He has to... we do a dangerous job here. One wrong move could kill us all. It might seem boring day to day, but we have to be careful. So, Roland's going to ride your ass at first -- make sure you're towing the line." Spike nods, waiting for his dad to eat first. "I really want to do more...mechanical stuff around here. You taught me how to fix a tire and do an oil change!" He pauses, "But...if they want me as a janitor, I can live with that." What Sparkplug sees isn't pretty, but it's the site of someone who has just been utterly leveled from hard work. The building blocks of character! Sparkplug smiles, setting the food down where they can both reach it and patting his son's knee with paternal affection. "Son, I know exactly how you feel. When I started in the Army, I made some screw-ups at first and was stuck with KP duty -- peeling potatoes, washing dishes, you name it." Sparkplug says, "It's not what you'd call glamorous work, and with my skills, I know I could have been making a greater effort in the war." Spike reaches out for a dried biscuit. He barely has time to put a pat of butter on it and shoves it into his mouth with a desperate hunger. He closes his eyes and savors the crappy buiscuit. "Muf you wounded up as a war hero!" Spike says, spitting out a few crumbs. Spike takes a drink of water with his one good hand. Sparkplug says, "Well, maybe I did, or maybe I didn't... I don't know about that 'hero' business -- I just did what I could. But you know what? We all have to pay our dues. We have to show those in charge that we can take orders and work hard." Spike nods. "Yes sir..." he says obediently. Spike reaches over again for another biscuit, knowing the two left are for dad. "I just wish..." he trails off. Sparkplug smiles, not sure Spike is really convinced. "Son, *I* know you're capable, and are willing to work hard. But Roland doesn't. You're here on my good word, but he has to see for himself what a good kid you are, and that he can trust you. You show him you're amazing at cleanin' toilets and mopping floors, and then he'll know he can trust you with more important stuff... not that it's not important to have clean toilets and floors. I'm cleaned a few in my time, and I'm not too proud to admit it. Work is work." Spike nods, shoulders slumped slightly. "I know...but I gave it my ALL today! And if he isn't impressed by that..." (OK, he didn't give it his ALL, not the first half of the day. The comic-book reading section) He sighs "I...just wish we didn't have to do this. There's some jerkwad at school. He still has his mom. They're going to the stupid Grand Canyon for summer. And all he does is brag about how much money his family has! YOU deserve to go to the Grand Canyon, not those dummies!" Spike stares at the tray, not too sure what other 'food' is on. Sparkplug says, "Well, he said you weren't bad, which for him is a compliment. I'm sure you'll do better. As for what we 'deserve'... well, that's not up for us to decide." Spike nods as some pus seeps out from his makeshift toilet-paper bandage. "So...he talked to you about busting me reading a comic book?" Sparkplug considers giving a 'God has a plan' lecture, but he'd feel too much like his own dad if he did. Sparkplug leans back, smiling. "No, actually. He kept that between him and you." Sparkplug seems amused at Spike outing himself. He finally grabs one of those now-cold hard buscuits, and washes it down with black coffee, sans remark. Spike puts his hands in his face. "Aw crap! Sorry! I just...I wanted to take a break..." He shook his head. "Sorry...I won't let it happen again." Roland made sure of that...if Spike fails, Sparkplug goes. Spike reaches over for the gauze. "Is that for you?" Sparkplug says, "Is what?" Sparkplug frowns. "Your hand OK? Need me to take a look?" Sparkplug leans forward with parental concern. Spike 's frame looks downright gaunt in his father's shadow. Though he was no slouch, the next few weeks will lay the foundation of 'older than he seems' personality trait. He extends his skinny arm, showing a busted blister. "I didn't know holding a mop could do this!" For the hands of an untested 14-year-old, heck yeah. GAME: Spike PASSES a COURAGE roll of High difficulty. "It's not bad at all. Just don't want it oozin' all over the place."" Spike looks up and says "If it's still playing when we get back, can you and I go see 'Ghostbusters'?" Sparkplug nods. "Well, let me give it a proper dressing. We don't want you scaring the others," he jests warmly. Sparkplug says, "And we can definitely see whatever you want when we get back. You've earned it." Sparkplug smiles proudly, getting rubbing alcohol and fresh gauze. Spike pauses and looks up in continued wonderment at his dad's almost superhuman ability to do everything. "Thanks for bringing me...by the way." Sparkplug smiles in return. "Who knows? It could be a good summer after all." The blister is oval and runs across the inside of Spike's palm, from index finger to ring finger. A clean burst - the best sign of a hard-day's work. He gives Sparkplug a 'don't hold your breath' expression. "Maybe." Sparkplug smiles to himself, gently cleaning his son's blister and rebandaging it with practiced skill. ]"If you got other guys to hang with, I'm cool reading. I'm going to turn in early anyway." He flinches. Sparkplug says, "Soon you'll get some callouses, and this'll be a little easier." Sparkplug finishes up the bandaging, and sits back to finish his coffee and meal. Spike continues, "Anyway...you probably want to get back in touch with those guys." He tilts his head at 'callouses' GAME: Spike PASSES an INTELLIGENCE roll of Very High difficulty. "Those are like...stuff that forms on your skin after you've burned them a lot?" Spike says nervously. Sparkplug says, "Eh, I can catch up with them tomorrow. I'm happy with some time with my boy. And callouses will help you with the work -- better attention will help you prevent burns!" Spike looks down at his hand and does a few 'sound of one hand clapping' gestures. He looks at his dad in surprised. "Cool!" Sparkplug obviously has some what-doesn't-kill-you-makes-you-stronger tough-love in him. Sparkplug grins. "You'll toughen up fast around here, son. When you get back, you'll be a man, where the other kids in your class will just be boys." Spike nods and lies flat on his bed. Something Sparkplug thought he'd never see...his son fighting to stay awake before 9 p.m.. "If my alarm doesn't wake me up at 4:30, will you please wake me up?" Sparkplug says, "Sure, kid. I'll wake you up on my way out to the job." Spike fluffs his pillow. Tomorrow, he'll put in his first full day of work. He WILL impress his immediate supervisor, AND Roland. And prove his weight to dad. Sparkplug lays back on his own cot, a proud smile on his lined face. Whether Spike agrees or not, this will be a good summer for them both. Spike turns around and pulls the covers over his tired frame. "Night, dad." Sparkplug reaches up to pull the chain that turns off the light. "Night, son," he says in the dark, smile heard in his gruff voice. Sparkplug beams happily in the dark as their first day comes to a close. Meanwhile...1400 miles away... In the second Witwicky home, the smell of popcorn fills the house as Ron and Judy finish a game of Clue with Buster. Ron looks at his watch and then looks at Buster. "Almost nine. But tell you what. Tonight, you can stay up as late as you want, just want you in your room unless you absolutely need one of us. Does that sound fair?" Air Conditioning, Clue, The Secret of NIMH in the movie theater, a soft bed, does a summer get any more slack for a Witwicky? Buster grins. "Thanks, Uncle Ron! I have a book I want to finish, so I'll be quiet." He jumps up enthusiastically, grabbing some milk to drink while he reads. While upset at first that his dad and brother were leaving without him, he's quickly recovered, and by now is barely aware that the rest of his family are 2700 miles away instead of just down the block. An hour later, in the basement, the coast is clear. Judy takes out a small pipe and loads a one-hitter of pot. The two are to the point now, it's just like a beer. One hit is all they allow themselves in the care of Buster. "I know...we agreed. 'No kids'. But Buster...he's kinda shocked me." She shrugs. "I mean...if YOU are cool with changing your mind...I mean..I dunno. I suppose having a kid wouldn't be THAT bad." She passes the one-hitter to her soon-to-be schoolteacher husband. Before Buster went up for bed, Ron kindly gave Buster his assignment for the weekend: Write two one-page letters, one for dad, one for Spike. Ron stressed "They're doing this because they love you, you know that." Ron accepts the one-hitter thoughtfully. "Well, this summer will be the first time we'll have Buster full-time without Sparky down the street. Let's see how this goes, and then we can think about our future." He smiles however, obviously warming up to the idea of a son (or daughter) of his own. Category:2012 Category:Logs